Weightloss

So yes. I'm one of those. If you've ever had a baby you've most likely been in these shoes. 

Relosing the weight. 

After I had Piper I lost all my weight pretty quickly and then my eating got out of control. 

Fast food everyday at lunch. Cokes like no other. No water. Oh and birthday cake Oreos. Oof. 

That 40lbs came back on like an unwanted relative on a holiday visit. 

Finally I broke down. 

My pants barely squeezed on. 

I did my research. 

Count your carbs it said. 

Drink your water. 

Take your Plexus religiously. 

That last one I added. 

I found a girl's blog about being sugar free and carb free/low carb. 

I took notes, followed her on every social media outlet possible, and made a complete write up of everything I could eat and drink. 

I never knew how delicious carb free could be. Pancakes, fajitas, low carb turkey wraps, soup, grilled chicken, there's even low carb/carb free bread recipes. 

I can do this...

We emptied the kitchen cabinets of junk. 

And then we meal prepped. 

Let me be honest. 

I tried to like veggies I really did. 

Cauliflower. Yuck. Broccoli. Yuck. Raw carrots and celery. Blahhhhh. 

So I stuck with fruits. 

Not necessarily carb free, but better than a handful of Oreos. 

The first 2 weeks were hard core no carbs whatsoever.  My coworkers thought I was starving. I thought I was starving, but I was relearning how to eat. 

When you're used to eating a quarter pounder and large fries that comes as a shock. 

The next 2 weeks I did indulge in a pbj or 2. So I ate lighter the next meal. I may have eaten Cancun once or twice, but I ate lighter my previous meal. 

Now here I am an exact month later. 

Between taking my Plexus Slim, Accelerator, and BioCleanse and having better eating habits I am 12 solid lbs lighter that I have maintained. I can wear my normal jeans again and I don't have to stretch my shirts out before I wear them. My goal is 20lbs by Christmas and I'm over halfway there. 

 

Now to order my next round of Plexus products and finish cooking my carb free pancakes. 

8 Months and Counting

Our sweet precious is 8 months old.

Wasn't she just born yesterday? 

No seriously. My scar is still tingling. It had to be yesterday. 

No? 

Let me dwell on this a moment. 

Now back to business...

Piper is 8 months old on the 8th of the 8th month. 

888. That's lucky right?

Precious is moving like nobody's business. Not only are we a master crawler, a perfect puller-upper, but almost a satisfactory stander-upper on our own. Oh and we are a weak walker. Oof. 

Yes she's had a few ups and downs. Literally. 

She bonks her head or bottom and waits on our reaction.

She usually gets a "brush it off" or a "you're fine" followed by a quick scoop of momma's or daddy's arms and up we go to get a toy or find something else to get in to whilst avoiding a crocodile tear or a complete nuclear meltdown. 

Her favorite distraction is "reading." 

Yes the quotes are entirely necessary. 

Piper's version of said reading involves her daddy's hunting and fishing and farming magazines. They're her favorite. Not only is she up to date on all things RealTree or Bass Pro, but she is a master tearer-upper. 

She takes the magazine page by page, ripping each very carefully into as many strips as possible. She then takes each strip with both hands, raises it above her head, and snaps it in two. 

Did I mention she was a dramatic reader?

Along with her love of reading and new found mobility comes her new found favorite foods. 

All things blueberry, Gerber yogurt, oatmeal with fruit and/or cinnamon, and she inevitably likes the grossest thing I've ever seen or smelled- Macaroni and cheese with mixed veggies... In Gerber baby food form. Ew doesn't even describe it.

She's a good eater thank goodness, but she comes from a long line of people who like to eat so she really has no choice. 

She still loves her puppy dogs, but the furbabies have yet to understand Piper doesn't need to share their toys. 

This will be a losing battle I'm afraid. 

Piper's First Halloween

It's no secret this past weekend was Piper's first Halloween.
It's also no secret that we went with a costume that is not exactly something you put a precious little girl in.
Along with the fact I like unconventional, funny, adorable, and stinking cute I might add, Piper was a skunk.
Flower. That's what we decided.
Flower from Bambi.
Precious. Pictures don't do it justice.
I found the amazing idea of course on Pinterest and the actual costume set on Amazon.

Oh Amazon Prime. My life saver when it comes to needing things in a reasonably, fast manner and at a fabulous price.

Daddy skunk was on day shift so we did our in town visiting starting at lunch at my Gege & Poppa's where we got puffs, pants, and carrots in our goodie bag.
Next we went to my Memaw's where we got more puffs, and had to dig into those right then.
We then made the trip home to wait to go on our last 3 stops.
We went to Andy's Mimi's house where we got puffs, a card, candy, and did I mention puffs?
We also had to dig into those too. Quality control as most understand.
Quality was good. No worries.
We then went to Aunt Jean & Uncle Larry's down the road to trick or treat.
She was delighted in finding more puffs, a ball that makes noise with grips so she can chunk it across the room (or at the dogs), and a board book that we have looked at and held and flipped the pages of ever since we laid eyes on it.
Lastly we stopped at Andy's parents' for supper and Halloween treats.
To Piper's delight, in her Halloween bag she had puffs, yogurt, macaroni & cheese, pears, and 101 Dalmations DVD.
She couldn't get to the Gerber fast enough before she had her mouth all over the yogurt containers and trying to figure out how to get the lid off the puffs.

Fact: Precious likes her puffs.

Don't mess with the puffs or you will anger the beast.

To say it was a successful Halloween would be an understatement.
To say our child is loved would be an understatement.
To say we had a fabulous weekend when the clock went back an hour would also be an understatement.

A great time was had by all and the costume ideas are already flowing for next year.

Oops Part... #1A

So I got behind. Oops. Let's rewind.

Piper turned 8 months in August. Still crawling and pulling up.
Piper turned 9 months in September. Still crawling and still pulling up. Etc...etc...etc...
Husband turned 27 in September.
Piper turned 10 months on Oct. 8th. Still crawling and pulling up and walking.

Oh wait, yea she started walking last week and wait for it....

CUT HER FIRST TOOTH ALMOST TEN MONTHS TO THE DAY....

Then tomorrow she'll be starting kindergarten and then next day off to college.
I'm so not prepared for all this.

Along with these new found abilities and toofies she has mastered the stink eye...or stink face as we call it.

It's the most horrible look that exemplifies what one would see on a Pinterest meme(?) asking some redundant, ridiculous question.
One day I'll get a picture of it and frame it and then put it in her Senior yearbook ad.

At her 9 month check-up she was officially off the growth chart for age...
She was remeasured 2-3 times.

We are 25ish lbs and 31.5 inches to this day, but that's what happens when your daddy is 6'5.
Yet your momma is a whopping 5'4. Go figure.

Let's see what else I can think of:

1. Luv's diapers are yes cheaper than most, but are trustworthy enough for even the nights your child sleeps a full 10 hours.
2. I finally get the hang of dressing my kid in cute/fashionable clothes and we refuse to keep a bow on our head longer than 5 minutes.
3. My kid has enough hair to clip in a bow. I'm afraid she does have some of my chromosomes and will one day have my head of hair or for lack of better words... the beast.
4. To say my child is determined is an understatement. We wiggle through holes she shouldn't be able to wiggle through.
5. Baby Day. Oof. More to come on this later.
6. Water always tastes better in a Sonic cup. So worth the 55 cents. Always worth the 55 cents.
7. My best friend is having a baby! Excited is an understatement.
8. The home redecorating is still going strong.  A little too strong...
10. Oh and we bought a farm.

Tada!

Baby Day

At our church, along with most in this area, we have a special Sunday set aside each year for the new babies born to be dedicated. Well seeing as Piper was born last December, after the 2014 Baby Dedication Day, we were due for the 2015 one.

That week I made sure everyone had clothes pressed, socks, new shoes, hair washed, outfits laid out the night before, and the whole 9 yards.

Husband worked off night shift, came home, went to bed about 4:30am, and woke up about 8.
I got up with Piper, got her all dolled up, with her new outfit and shoes and bow.
I got myself dressed and hair and makeup fixed all by 9 am.

For those that have more than one child and do this every week/day...Bless you.

To say I don't get my child up and to church would be incorrect. We get up and get going and get ourselves to Sunday School and "Big Church" just as everyone else does, with no complaints, but just maybe she doesn't always get a bath the morning of or possibly get her nails clipped the day before, and she may or may not have shoes on her feet or we may not even attempt a bow.
But atleast we get there.
Just sometimes in an unconventional manner...but really? Who needs shoes to worship Jesus?
Not my kid.

Back to my story.

Everyone is good to go. We load up. I finish my makeup on the way as usual. We get there and Piper has taken both shoes off, the bow is on the other side of the car and she is blowing bubbles like nobody's business.
We did remember the pacifier though.
Thank you Jesus for the pacifier.

When we enter the sanctuary at our church, they have made the alter into an adorable arrangement of pumpkins and gourds and all things fall including little wooden cutouts with the names of those to be dedicated that morning.
Insert "awwww."

First things first we take a family picture. No fights there. The bow is still intact and shoes are still on.

Now the waiting game...

We wait for about 20 mintues for the service to start.

During this waiting time my child has sneezed 3 times, spit her pacifier out 5 times, taken her shoes off, snatched the bow off, and managed to wriggle down onto the floor and bonk her head such that she lets out a blood curdling scream.

In that moment I scoop her up, shove a paci in her mouth, and go to the nursery to change her diaper.
After changing her diaper and coming back it's almost time for church to start.

She is fascinated with the people around us and keeps watching and pointing.
Just FYI...pointing is rude and to explain that to a 10 month old is impossible.

So as we point at people around the sanctuary we begin to give the stink face.
Also, giving the stink face in church is not exactly polite.

Soon it's time for the little ceremony where they call us up one by one and introduce the child and present them with a Bible with their name on it.

They call the first family up. Piper snatches a shoe off along with her bow and I frantically push the shoe back on and throw the bow in the diaper bag and say forget it. Bows are overrated.
Our turn next.

We walk up, take our Bible, stand in our spot and watch as others are called for their turn.

Piper proceeds to point more....
Piper then begins to look at the other babies like they're crazy for not trying to wriggle down their mommas' sides, down their legs, and onto the floor like she is.
Piper then decides she wants on my other hip so we switch.
Then Piper turns to look at Daddy and can't decide if she want to stay with Mom or go to him.

After this, they pray and we're off to the nursery.

With all this said, we survived our one and only baby day.
Hallelujah folks.
Hallelujah.

Artsy Farsty

I get the infamous question all the time...

Who taught you to do that or this or how to...

Well most of the time the answer is no one. I figured it out or made something up.
It's about like my cooking. I make stuff up as I go along, but we won't talk about that right now.

I didn't actually "learn" how to do art. I just went with what I was given when I was little and have built on it ever since. You can't teach HOW to think outside the box, but you can guide someone to do so.

This would be why I have put together art classes for kids this year at the dance studio.
I want kids to dive in and get their creative juices flowing. I won't be "teaching them" to do art. I'll be guiding them to use proper mediums and techniques together and guiding them to excel in making their masterpieces. Most importantly, I'll hopefully be helping them to release their inner artist whether it be a cartoonist, painter, sculpter, etc. I hope to help kids find their niche. What are they good at? What do they enjoy more? What do they like?

I want the kids to be able to be able to have a worry free zone.
No one grading them. No one telling them they're wrong.
There is no "wrong" in art.

SO here's my story on my artsyness.

To keep me entertained and busy, my mother used to put paper and crayons in front of me and play copy cat.

**my younger dance girls know this game well**

She would draw (usually a bumblebee) a picture of something and I was to copy it.
This started my drawing and doodling expertise.
From then on, I doodled on everything.
My high school teachers giggled at my notes  because I would do them in different fonts or fill the margins with patterns, pictures, or who knows what.

When I was in Kindergarten, I had an old book that had "art project how to's" in it. My favorite was the penguin made of construction paper.

One day my teacher let me sit in the middle of the class and teach them to make the penguin. Yes, kindergartener teaches kindergarten.
Thank you Mrs. Wooldrige for letting me always go to the art center and never have to play in the other centers with the other children.

Then came elementary school. I tested in and was selected to participate in SAGE. It was heaven on earth for me. We got to think outside the box and the more creative the better.

At Central, we had art as an activity period. I hated it.
I hated someone told me I did it wrong or mine wasn't what it was supposed to be. To me it was right and it was how I wanted it to look.
The final straw was the day the teacher told me that my pattern wasn't a pattern and she was going to throw my picture away.
I swore no one was going to steal my art thunder. Yes as a 4th grader.

So through jr. high and high school I did not take art from the school. I weaseled my way out of the extracurricular by taking half a year of band in the 9th grade.
I was a majorette. Marching season was done and so was I.

All through school I made who knows how many t-shirts, jeans, signs, bags, canvases, and oh Lord the SHOES!
I remember once we needed shirts for a dance we were doing for a pep rally my junior year. There were 12 cheerleaders including myself.
 I stayed up til 4am stoning and painting those things. The E6000 was stout, and the shirts were strewn everywhere in my room to dry.

Through college I funded my gas money and making the difference in my car note with my paint projects.

Now, it goes in my child's diaper fund.

So that's where it came from. Years of just figuring out what worked and what didn't. What I liked and what I didn't.

So that's where it all came from and why I want to have art classes at the studio.

Big Girls Don't Cry

I get somewhat sentimental with certain things.

Cars for example.
I get attached.
Kind of.

We go through alot together.

When I was 16 my parents surprised me with a brand new red Chevrolet cobalt.
It was a little vroom vroom car.
I had a lot of memories to go along with it.
Cruising the sonic, football games, basketball games, riding around with friends, driving off to college...driving home from college.
And then I convinced my dad I needed something different, convinced him I had it sold (which I did), and got my newish 2010 Limited Ford Escape.
I was a little sad to see my little red car go, but on to more mature ventures I told myself.

I was so proud of myself.
It even had the fancy lights inside that changed color and the upgraded leather seats.

The deal was I paid the difference in the car notes.

So my freshman year of college I got the black escape to tote around the kids I babysat, Texarkana shopping sprees, furniture, my first grocery shopping trip after Andy and I got married, drove back and forth to my baby appointments, drove Piper home from the hospital, and more.

Then the black beauty turned on me...
After a faithful 5 years we had to part ways.

Thank heavens...

After the stupid thing ate my Gaither Vocal Band Christmas cd I was done.
Then it got worse.
The air quit... in the middle of July.

That wasn't going to work out commuting 15-20 min everyday with a 7 month old, and riding with the windows down wasn't my thing.
Too much noise and smells. Ew.

SO on a Friday morning... a week without cold air... on the way to work I had had enough of the Escape's shenanigans and decided I was not going to pour money into this thing to fix all its wrong doings when I could spend the same money on a newer car.

SO after consulting with the husband on my lunch break, I got the green light to look.

Me being me, 10 minutes into "looking", I saw what I wanted and I had my mind set on it and I wasn't going to be happy til I got it.

I went and spoke to the fabulous salesman at the Magnolia Motor Company, took the car for a test drive, let him check mine out, and ran some numbers.

I was sold. Bye bye black car.

HELLO newer white Ford Fusion Titanium.

Hey, all or nothing-leather, pretty colored lights, touch screen, push button start, remote start. Hallelujah it has air conditioning too.

SO on the following Monday morning I traded in the treacherous thing and took possession of my new found companion on my commutes to town and other adventures.

Who could argue with averaging 28-34 to the gallon?
Especially driving highway every day both ways.

SO needless to say, I was not sad and teary eyed to see the SUV go and switch back to a car.
No I don't miss "all the room". What room? I have more room in the trunk of this car than I did in the Escape? Serious. No lie.
Andy can even fit more comfortably in it too.

Now the adventures begin in the white car.
Vroom. Vroom.

7 Months and Counting

Our precious is 7 months old.

Yes, as artsy as I am and nonsense I stink at doing the 1 month posts, pictures, stickers, parties, and stuff.
She's lucky I even filled out her birth weight and time in her baby book.

Although I did put her wrong length in it... I'll blame it on the morphine pump.
I could have sworn they told me she was 18 in. long...

So Pipes is 7 1/2 months old.

She likes fruit blends, but she passes on the Hawaiian Delight. Not a fan. It gets pushed away.
She also likes peas, sweet potatoes, squash, carrots, but passes on green beans.
Don't worry honey, so does mommy.
Yuck.

She is quite the water baby.
We love spending afternoons after work at the Jennings Resort for Bathing Beauties whilst enjoying a shared snow cone of the strawberry cheesecake or the homemade ice cream type.
If we don't get a snow cone we share a cotton candy blizzard from the local DQ.
She then kicks back in her pink whale float and chews on the eyes or splashes the water while I float her around the shallow end.

I've had eye witnesses on the account. If the spoon doesn't come fast enough she lets you know with a loud screech or simply snatches the spoon away.

She is about 20 lbs and close to 30 in. tall.
She has just recently figured out this crawling thing, but only when she really wants to go or get to something.
For example...
The dogs have a habit of sharing their toys with her. Literally.
They bring her a nylabone, then go get one for themselves and come back to snuggle next to her while enjoying their quality chew time.
So she now thinks that they are her toys too.
She makes the valiant effort to reach them when they are lying solo on the living room floor before we snatch them away, but sadly those efforts fail.

Yes, the dogs still accept her as one of their own. They do not let her out of their sight and are quite protective of her.
It's adorable.

She loves to people watch.
If she does not know you she will study you with a furrowed brow til she knows every freckle on your face.
With that said, Walmart, Target, etc. are entertaining for her so of course I take her.

She also loves taking a bath in the sink....with the measuring cups.
She will soon have her own set reserved for bath time.

Lastly, she loves her daddy.
As a little girl your daddy is your first hero, love, dance partner, etc. There was nothing better than your daddy coming to your rescue.

When Andy comes in, she stops what she's doing, gives him a big slobbery grin, and waits with arms wide open and waving for him to scoop her up. Be still my heart.

When she wakes up and gets in our bed while I feed her, she reaches for him all the while climbing to touch his head, pull his hair, stick her fingers in his ears, etc.
She wants her daddy.

We live a good life. One I never thought I would have being married only 1 1/2 yrs, having a 7 month old, 2 dogs, working 2 jobs, and finishing school.
It's full of surprises...good surprises like expecting to eat spam for supper, but coming home to a steak with all the fixings.

My Opinion

Some have wondered where all this strong will has come from all the sudden.Sit tight and I'll explain.

Growing up I was quiet. I did not ever want to make anyone mad, and I would have been easily classified as a people pleaser.
I did not like confrontation whatsoever and would do anything to avoid it in general.
I didn't know how to say no when others asked to copy my homework.
When things popped up at school to be made for the cheer squad, prom, etc. I couldn't say no.
By no means did that mean that I wasn't happy to help, but there were other things that should have taken priority.
Not staying up til 4am rhinestoning shirts for us to wear the next day, but perhaps studying for AP Biology or AP Cal.
OOPS.

As I got older and entered college, I had a professor who told us we were the stupidest group of students he had ever had.
Me being me, I took it to heart and wanted to quit the class, change my major, move states, and create a new identity.
When I was trying to do my homework one night, I told my now husband about it.
He asked me was I stupid.
Of course I said no.
He told me not to let him bully me into something I know I'm not.
Do my best and show him I'm not dumb.

So I did.
The professor ate his words.

When I got pregnant, I had a slight shift in personality. Obviously seeing as my hormones were like that retro video game "Ping" or whatever... The thing where the little ball bounces everywhere and you try to bounce it in the right direction.

I all the sudden had no filter on my mouth. Literally.
Did I sometimes over use the "I'm pregnant with raging hormones" excuse? Oh ya. At that point I was still super confused as to why some things came toppling out of my voice box the way they did.

But being pregnant and having no filter made me realize what it was like to be able to tell people no, do what I thought was best for me and not what would make others happy, and I was able to actually voice my opinion with no thought of what could possibly go wrong except for someone to disagree with it.

The longer I pondered on it, the more confident I was in being able to stand up for myself in a sense that I didn't just say yes or no just to make sure everyone was happy and pleased with what was going on.
I was confident in my voice.

I did not want my Piper to grow up like that.
I did not want my Piper to grow up scared.

So it was time to set the example.
That's how you lead.
You can't tell someone to do something the right way and then do it wrong.
That's not how it works.


I want my daughter to grow up strong, courageous, and confident.
I want my daughter to know how to stand up for herself and what's right and what's wrong even when it's not easy.
I want my daughter to run to us when she needs help.
I want her to know her parents support her and will fight for her.
Do I want her to act a fool while doing so? Oh heck no.
There's a wooden spoon for that.

Which leads me to say this.
I do not want my child to be run over or pushed aside because she is too scared to say anything.
I also will not allow anyone to run over my child.
If anyone feels it necessary to do such a thing, remember I have a special set of skills and I will find you.

You know the old saying- There is no wrath like a woman scorned.
I think they got it wrong because there's a whole new level when you become a momma.
There is no wrath like that which comes from a Momma protecting/defending her child. 

On the Soapbox

Disclaimer** This is my blog. I say what I think. I do what I want. Don't like it? Quit reading or create your own blog. There's my opinion on that.

This is how my blogging works.
I hear about something, read something, or think about something long enough and I feel the need to have a strong opinion.
Whether anyone has figured it out or not, I have strong opinions.
Whether I voice them or not is dependent upon the strength of such opinion.

So here are my opinions since I last wrote...

1.) The subject: People who have more than 2 kids are nutso. FALSO

My Opinion: FALSO.The ability to conceive and mother children is taken for granted, but I don't necessarily believe you aught to make it your goal to have umpteen biological children.

I can see 6-7 as plausible. When you pass 10, you lose me. Let's be honest.  I personally believe God won't give you anything you can't handle.If he blesses you with 7 children, kudos to you. I'm stoked that someone is willing and has the capability to love and nurture that many children. I was given 1 child because the good Lord knew I might pull my hair out if I had more.
 Now I will say this, shame on you to those who feel fostering, adopting, or birthing more babies is all about how much government assistance or how big of a tax refund you can get. You aught not be given the grace of being able to have children if you knowingly aren't going to actually love them and raise them up. You're missing out on a tremendous experience.

2.) The subject: Pity Parties

I don't do well with those who throw the "oh look at me I live a hard life and I don't want attention for it" pity party on their Facebook statuses or what not. Heaven forbid someone to question your well being if you don't plaster it for the world to see. That's looking for trouble in my opinion.
If you want a public service announcement that you stubbed your pinky toe on your new garden gnome, go for it, but don't get upset when the negative backlash of people talking about how ridiculous it sounds comes back around to smack you in the face.
Guess what though?
There's usually someone if not 100 other people who have it a whole lot worse off than your pity party problems.
Let's try being thankful we're alive today shall we?

3.) The subject: Military Benefits

Our government has issues. Is that surprising? Shouldn't be.
My big issue is military benefits.
They don't get enough of them.
And that's all I have to say about that.

4.) The subject: Opinions

That's why their called opinions. I have mine. You have yours. They may not be the same, but have the courtesy to respect that and not be ugly.

I have quite the opinion on the next subject. Just a warning.

Catch Up Part Something...

So it has been a while since I have actually thought about blogging. Not going to lie.

There have been birthdays, lazy days, work, grocery trips, lake trips, church going, vacation Bible school, lots of house cleaning (hahahahaha not really), and lots of growing.

Yes I said growing.

Since my last blog during recital week, our child has turned 5 months old and then 6 months old a few weeks ago.

Holy moly folks.
At her 6 month appointment, Pipes was a whopping 27 in. long and 18lbs. On the dot....
She is my child.
For those who know me, they know that I hate uneven numbers with point this or half that or fraction business. I want it to the point and concise.
It is only fitting she is precise on the mark.

The only thing not quite so precise on the mark is her milestones.

I'm afraid we will walk before we crawl.
Let me rephrase that... Piper is determined to walk before she crawls.
Yes, she is determined to walk. No crawling necessary- she feels that's for babies.

At 4 1/2 months we notices her trying to balance and sit up completely on her own.
A month later that was mastered and she could sit on the floor and play all on her own- reaching for toys and going about her business.

*It is quite the wonderful thing to have a child who entertains herself.

By 6 months old, she was pulling up to stand when we held her hands.
As of this week, she can pull up to stand on her own and tries to let go and stand on her own.
That scenario doesn't exactly turn out on the positive side yet, BUT...

YESTERDAY
as Piper pulled up on my hands, she took 4 steps forward...

That is impressive...Although I am a tad partial being she is my child.

Also, we like to make noises to hear ourselves. Ranging from screeching, screaming, and outright hollering to grunting, oooing, and a funny little diddy where she purses her lips like she's trying to spit.

There's the catch up on Piper for the past 2 months.

Now let's catch up on some opinions I've had lately.
Proceed to the next entry and take a right.

Late Night Run Through

 It's 4:05 am on a Friday. It's recital day 1, show 1, aka the most wonderful time of year around the dance studio. 

Hectic and nutso at times, but after a Route 44 Sonic drink it's ok. Worth it more or less. 

In my mind I'm running through the staff dance, to do list, accounts to post to, kids' to find to help fix hair and makeup, remember this and that and them and all of the above. 

Yes I'm serious- recital is seriously the best!

Starting in August every year I hear the songs the kids are dancing to while at my desk, I hear them tell their mommas when they come out all about the new steps they learned or combinations in tap, jazz, or ballet;but I never get to see the actual dances until recital comes around. 

So during dress rehearsal when I'm not looking for shoes, working on accounts, or sorting shirts, I get to not only watch all the little ones from ages 1 to 5, but also watch those babies watch in awe of the teenagers with their fast tapping feet, clogging skills, the huge group numbers, and of course the fabulously amazing production number throughout the entire show- this year just happens to be... Wait for it...

The Wizard of Oz. 

boom. 

I also get to watch the babies jump out of their mommas' laps and into the aisles of the auditorium to mimic the older girls' dance moves or make up their own. 

Why yes it will melt your heart. 

On the days where you think the world is crumbling to pieces for one reason or another, watching the kids dance and their excitement for the show reminds me why I love my job so much. 

*and why I absolutely can not wait to put Piper in dance and see her at her first recital*

Also, after being behind the scenes on it all the past 5 years, I know it's all done strictly for the kids. No financial gains, no "oh look at us", no personal indeavors, but simply because we want the kids' to have the best recital experience possible. 

In the end, it's all about giving the best to our dance kids because to us they're our own. If you hurt one of them, you'll have more than 1 momma to deal with. 

When you see us post about the KDAS family, it's because it is a family. 

You bond, you help, you pick up one another, you hold your teammates accountable, you praise one another after a performance, you practice, you perform, and most importantly...

You always stick together. 

Oh. Wait. 

Did I mention they win big trophies too? Like taller than me? 

But most importantly they have sportsmanship and class.

Let me give an example (because I've told almost anyone who asks how dance is this year). 

That's a thank you mote from another studio at the last competition. I'm a tad proud and I'm just the secretary (and bandaid distributor and splinter puller). 

So.  

If you have nothing to do on this so far rainy Friday at 6:30 or Saturday at 1:30 & 6:30pm. Come on to the MJHS auditorium and see what these kids have worked for and what the competition kids have won all these awards for. 

You'll have a blast no doubt. 

Home Redo Update

Thus far...  The bedroom is finished thanks to my mom's handiwork with a sewing machine- new pillows and curtains 

And new curtains in the dining area and kitchen

And oh yea I covered my "bright idea." Thank the Lord. Hallelujah.

We now have a calm neutral colored kitchen with fun accents- ie my obsessiveness with Coton Colors and the newest addition to the collection. THE leopard bowl. Omg. 

 

By no means am I a fabulous photographer... I made a B in that class. 

Actualy pictures of complete room redos will come as soon as I put the seal of approval on them, but right now I'm a little too excited about my latest DIY project that saved quite the pretty penny. 

After getting rid of the big comfy couch- thank you Lee family for removing it from our living room and giving it a new home- we brought in our loveseat from the mancave/hunting room/extra thing. We have gone back and forth about what to do with it and so after watching a youtube video I gathered some gumption and said here we go. With my handy staple gun and 3 sets of Walmart curtains I began recovering the loveseat. 

Now how did I figure it out? I made it up as I went. That's how. 

What I did to one side, I cut the same pattern for the other. 

No it isn't upholstery fabric, but what 22 yr old honestly has $500 laying around to play with to buy 10 yards of fabric for an old loveseat along with another couple hundred to pay someone to recover it for them? 

No says I. 

So as I said. I watched my video and away we went. 

I truely think Andy thought I was going to ruin the thing.

I partly thought I would too, but this time I wouln't have pregnancy to blame my brilliance on. 

BUT my brilliance was actually brilliance this time.

Booyah. 

The only downfall was that I needed one morw curtain for the last 2 cushions. Other than that, it's pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. 

Yes. I still have everything strewn out trying to find things a home. 

Ignore it. 

I'm pretty proud of the $30 couch redo. So still sticking with my design on a dime, I'm awaiting the delivery of a lampshade, 3 pillows, and the new curtains from walmart.com. Stay tuned for finished products. 

Quote of the Year

I have bad habits. I do. I'm messy when I do projects. I chew on the inside of my mouth. I pick at pimples. I make quick decisions sometimes too quickly. I have to count  things a certain way. 

Etc. etc. etc.

I also tend to put my feelings and emotions into situations I can't control. Or according to most people what little emotion and heartfelt warmth I have left in my black and heartless soul. 

**disclaimer- no I do not have a black soul nor am I heartless. My husband tends to claim I appear emptionless or cold at times. I.e. It is a joke. 

See previous post by the way. 

Therefore, my new favorite quote I'll be tattooing to my forehead for when I gaze into my mirror every morning.   

Not my circus, not my monkeys. 

I have my own circus and own crew of monkeys to deal with. I do not need to add more to my circus. We have plenty and are at max capacity thank you. 

Unless I plan to tame your monkeys for you, in which I would then take custody upon such occurance, I will then invite you to my circus and provide the popcorn free of charge. 

Until then, mind your own monkeys. 

Hard Knock Life

Today has been a hard day. But in reality I have business saying such words. I don't know the true meaning of the statement, but in comparison to normal days it was. The type of day in which I have been reminding myself over and over, "not everyone gets a crown."  I.e. My own words I use to explain to my dance kids things aren't always fair. 

Today was one of those days I needed to tattoo that on my own forehead, backwards, in black ink, font size 48, arial script so I could read it everytime I looked at myself.

Life is not always fair, situational outcomes are almost never fair, and I being the control freak I am-have a very hard time with that. 

I was the kid in school that hated group projects because I couldn't do it all. 

I can't take it. 

It's not always fair. Fair really has no relevancy or place in describing life events. Not every kid gets a trophy. Not every beauty queen deserves or recieves a crown. If a child doesn't win, teach them to be a graceful loser. 

If I grew up thinking everything would be given to me so things could be fair, I wouldn't have learned to work for what I wanted- even if in the end I didn't actually get what I thought I had earned or deserved. You get over it. Move on. 

Today was hard to overcome that. It's not fair. Why. Why. Why. 

But then I look around. 

My husband let me do what I wanted to our home when I redecorated. 

We have a gorgeous 4 month old. 

We have a pair of adorably humanlinke furbabies. 

We both have wonderful parents and siblings we love dearly and love us unconditionally. 

So what do I have to ask why about or what do I believe is unfair?

Nothing apparently. 

You get over it. Move on. 

Not everyone gets a crown. Nor do you always deserve it. Look past it. Be thankful for what you already have. 

My "Bright" Idea

So back about a year ago I had what I thought was the most brilliant idea- repaint the horrid maroon kitchen in our home. That's all fine and dandy. 

The problem?

Orange. Bright. High. Gloss. Orange. 

5 coats of it to cover the previously maroon walls.  

The other problem? 

The rest of the house is covered in flat matte paint. 

Oof. 

It looked like Halloween vomitted. 

To everyone who politely told me it was cool. Shame on you... Whyyyyyyyy

The only thing I can think of that made me think it was a wonderful idea?

The fact I was unknowingly pregnant. 

Yes I was 2 months along when I painted the kitchen. 

Pregnancy brain. It really is a thing...  

I painted it actually a week or so before I took my ten billion pregnancy tests. 

That's the only thing I can think that would have made me believe thatorange  kitchwn was so pretty...

I honestly cannot express how horrible it was. 

So in the midst of finishing this shabby chic meets cow pow renovation my mom graciously helped me rid our home of the terror of orange paint by covering it with the same light gray that the rest of the house is painted. 

And now it is finished

A whole new world folks. 

And now today we are working on curtains. 

The material for in here to go with my neutral Coton Colors? 

Voila. 

And then to address the couch situation. 

Ready. Set. Break. {claps hands loudly}

Catch Up

Let's play a game. 

Catch up. 

Yes imagine that creepy little puppet on the tricycle why don't ya. Not. If you're anything like me you'll end up with nightmares and paranoia that that thing is pedaling down the hall coming to sneak up on you at 2:45am when your husband is on night shift and the dogs bark randomly. Insert nervous laugh as you make sure you have easy access to your handy dandy purple pistol. 

Simply put- do not enter our home unannounced nontheless unwelcome. 

Now that we've chased a rabbit or ten. 

The Redo:

I am 2 weeks into redecorating... The whole house. From a new color palette to repainted furniture and repainting lots of things actually. And rearranging. And new curtains. And. Everything. 

So thus far...

Notice the adorable furry photobomber. And no I have not yet purchased lamp shades. 

Yay for WalMart and chalk paint!

And reusing home decor we already had. 

 And....

 The living room so far. Not near finished. 

Notice the fabulous cow picture from The Interior Story here in town. Next to add a few new pillows, a rug, and a small end table for the other couch and it'll be D-O-N-E. Oh and a cowhide I ordered to hang on the opposite wall. 

Which leads to tonight's project. The chair. 

This chair has an interesting story that I laugh about. One day I may tell it. 

But here it is in original form

And then I applied chalk paint and a fifty cent feed sack I bought on Etsy. 

And now we haveeeee.....

I'm kind of excited about this piece. 

That is all. 

The Plexus:

I am 2.5 weeks in. 7 lbs down. And I forgot to measure inches... Sad day. 

Oh well. BUT I feel great, clothes fit, and my pudgy chin thingy I developed when I was pregnant is gone. That's the most important part right now. Also, my nails are growing like weeds. Long and strong. I get asked alot if they're fake. 

My skin is also much healthier due to drinking more and more water. It's all around great. Now to tone up. 

My only set back?

That little pudge that haunts all c-sectioners. 

And Taco Bell. Oof. It's an addiction. Along with my love for Cancun fajitas and salsa. 

My newfound best friend? An elastic corset from Zulily. It smoothes that sucker out and is actually comfortable to wear for long periods of time.

These are the latest, and maybe next time I'll have before and after pics from the Plexus. If I get brave. 

Piper is 3 months old!

So baby girl is 3 months old... And 10 days. 

Yes mom of the year right here forgot to take a sticker picture after church last Sunday on the 8th to commemorate the occasion so that night this was the best I got 

In a good 20 years she will find this funny I'm sure. Hopefully. I would. 

But on the flipside atleast I'm keeping up in her baby book. Sort of. Better than I thought. 

But I do take a million pictures everyday and have every intention of scrapbooking her every move. 

That counts right?

So here we are. 3 months and 10 days into the life of Pi- Life of Pi...per. Get it?

The movie. 

I may just change that to the name of the blog. 

She loves DisneyJr, bananas, applesauce, rice cereal, her furry sisters Emmie and Ellie, "talking," smiling, sticking her tongue out, and of course inspecting those adorable roly poly feet of hers.  Also I have deemed her Princess Poopy Pants, but isn't every infant? At times I think she does it on purpose- going at it all over again right when I put the clean diaper on. I'm not the only person who has this problem right?

So here we are. 3 days later this entry is finished as Precious is cooing in her sleep, snuggled up with Miss Moo and Miss Piggy and that blinged out pacifier, and I'm contemplating on inventing a pause button due to the fact she needs to stop growing. Like now. 

Redo

I'm a sucker for decorating whether it be a room, whole house, a display, a baby shower- I'm all for it. 

So last Saturday my husband said this magical sentence... 

"Let's get rid of the red couch."

What did I hear?

REDECORATE EVERYTHING!

So I gathered the semi old and made a completely new plan for the new. 

From bold black and white and red and burlap I switched to blues and greys and creams and mercury glass. As I call it, Bold and Brilliant to Farmhouse Shabby Chic. 

I started on it Saturday night by taking down the things I knew I wouldn't use and drawing up a new plan and playing on etsy and cleaning. 

Sunday I started the buying. Let's just say it's a Pier 1 design scheme on a Walmart budget, but it's working. Walmart, etsy, and Walmart.com are the bomb. Oh and of course Zulily, can't forget Zulily. And The Interior Story here in town. 

From Walmart and walmart.com I've gotten all new rugs, lamps for the living room and foyer, throw pillows, curtains, and floral. 

From etsy I've ordered material for 3 other sets of curtains and a bench cushion, a pretty cool decal for the kitchen, and a vintage cow feed sack to recover a chair in the foyer. 

Zulily. The neatest picture ever for this redo. 

For those who don't know, my Andy and his family used to be chicken farmers. I found it fitting. 

Oh and I can't forget The Interior Story in town for my vases and new living room piece. Pictures of that will come after it's completely finished. 

And now I'm repainting furniture with the ever fabulous chalk paint and making canvases to hang in the freshly redecorated master bathroom. 

This is my first time using chalk paint. And now I'll need to find a support group for chalk paint addicts annonymous. 

Yippy skippy. 

So as I sit on the mountain of fur pillows and amongst the ceramics and the mess of decor still sitting on the table and the paint brushes, I can't wait to see the finished product.

A cozy cleanish house. 

And now to find lamp shades and new dog bowls... Target maybe?

Soap Box #2

The previous post has me fired up, so let me post one more for tonight. 

Don't ever ever ever ask someone when they'll have a baby or another baby for that matter. 

I've been on both sides now. It hurts. I'll be the first to admit it. 

I have been the person I mentioned earlier. I would ask all the newlyweds when they'd have a baby when I saw them at WalMart or the new parents when they would have another. 

Then I was on the other side of the fence and it all changed. When you ask those questions they're not meant in malice. Simply hopeful of bringing more joy into life. Well those questions don't always end with joyful answers. 

What about the couples who have tried for months or years or even exhausted all efforts of becoming pregnant on their own? 

What about those who just experienced losing a baby?

What about those who can't have children?  

What about those like myself who aren't allowed or those who aren't capable of  becoming pregnant again?

How do you politely answer that question without making the questioner feel like a horrible person? 

There's no easy or simple way or textbook answer. 

Am I or other parents who have one precious baby unsatisfied with our little miracles we were allowed to have? No. Not at all. 

Do we wish at times we could have more and experience the joy of bringing home baby and giving our first a sibling? Absolutely. 

Do our hearts sink and tears well up in our throats sometimes when asked about having a child or more children or at the mere thought of even remotely longing for a baby? 

Yes. 

Then you remember your little ray of miraculous sunshine God gave you sleeping on your chest popping her pacifier in and out of her mouth as she snores, and you're more than grateful and overjoyed by what you have. 

My cup runeth over. 

But I'll say it. I'm 22 years old and will not be able to become pregnant again. It's not safe.  

Due to the nature of Piper's arrival, it would not be safe for me to carry another child. The same is most likely to happen again, but I might not be so lucky as to actually be in the doctor's office when and if it did.

So when you ask those questions and you're cut off by a short "no," do not take offense but simply think there may be more to it. 

Do not say "Oh you'll forget the pain and how it happened will want to do it all again."

No. I and others like me will not. You don't forget the pain or the day your child almost died.

Did I practically forget almost all of December due to my anesthesia and pain medications? Yes. 

But I won't ever forget that. 

Soap Box #1

It's obvious I'm quite passionate on my stance of going to a professionally trained medical staff for all medical needs, but  due to recently reading an article on the "shaming or shading of c-sections" I have the urge to step up on my soap box...

Disclaimer* by no means am I saying either form of childbirth is better, worse, etc. than the other. The best form of childbirth is that which produces a living child and healthy momma. That's what counts. 

As I was saying. 

To those who want to judge anyone on the fact of not having a "natural" or "unnatural" vaginal birth because it was the "EASY WAY OUT"... Shame on you. 

Have you had a c-section yourself? Probably not, so let's go with the assumption you're either misinformed or just ignorant. 

And yes I can say that because I used to be someone who just assumed that after a section was over it was over. No ripping, tearing, pushing nonsense. No waiting. No pain. No epidurals. No feeling anything. No exhaustion. You get your stitches out and it's over. You heal up your cut and go on like nothing happened. Back to normal. Life goes on. 

Oh contrare... 

Wrong. 

Wrongo. 

Did I mention wrong?

Let me explain some things. 

Remember the magic trick of the woman in the box being cut in half? Exactly how I felt when I woke up. 

Do you have ripping and pushing and tearing? Not really. 

Do you have an incision and a kick butt battle scar? Absolutely. 

Are there 10ish staples in said incision? Correct. 

And then the whopper... Are there stitches on the INSIDE of your body? Yup. 

You literally heal from the inside out. And yes. Within 12ish hours after having said incision and stitches and staples and being packed and bandaged so tight you feel your skin will bust open if you move your pinky toe wrong, they stand you up. Is it achievable and completely essential in healing. YES. Does it make you feel like you will pass out or want to say things that would make your mother blush (depending on the last time you pressed your precious button)? 

It is a major surgery. It seems routine, but it's a big deal. 

Another step up on the soap box...

Not all who have a section CHOOSE to have a section. 

The next time you tell someone they took this so called easy way out- go ahead and duck and cover. I would if you were the "one more person" that said such to me. 

"Oh you're SO lucky! You didn't have to have any pain"

Lucky my left foot. Tell that to the brave nurse who comes in to stand you up for the first time. 

Orrrr my favorite was...

"Oh you had it easy. Just imagine if you actually had to sit on it."

I wanted to release the wrath of a 1 week postpartum she-devil. But I didn't. 

 

No You don't have to "sit on it."

But you do have to bend it. 

When you sit or try to lay down you bend at the waist correct? Well right there is the cute little easy line of staples. 

And another thing. For those who chose a section or it was medically necessary. Kudos to you for having a plan and preparing. Kudos to you for doing what you could to bring a healthy baby safely into the world. 

For those who either tried to have a vaginal birth but had complications leading to a section or for those like myself who had no idea and were rushed into emergency surgery- it wasn't necessarily your choice. It was your only choice and only option. There's nothing worse than someone tyring to condemn or shame or downplay the way you brought your sweet ray of sunshine into the world because it wasn't "womanly." 

You know what?

It takes a real woman to do whatever means necessary to save her baby, not her womanhood. 

It takes a real woman to do whatever means necessary to bring a baby safely into the world whether it be by vaginal delivery or section. 

And that's all I have to say about that. 

Pink

I've never really liked the color pink. Nope. Actually hated it when I was younger. Blues, greens, and orange have always been my favorite. 

Then one of my favorite women Mrs. Kay had breast cancer and pink became a statement. 

Then my mom had breast cancer and pink took on a whole new meaning. 

Then my boss had breast cancer and the fight was on. 

I had the urge to tattoo the pink ribbon on my forehead, but instead I made buttons with my mom's new pageant platform as she called it. 

Then I had a little girl and pink became everything. 

As Shelby said in Steel Magnolias, 

"Pink is my signature color."

 Insert deep southern charm. 

So today I take on my pink challenge. 

Today I have started my Plexus challenge. I've been asked the past week all about Plexus and my success with losing the baby weight and not having the still-pregnant look- apparently just the chubby glow. 

So today I made out my chart, filled my medicine organizer with my BioCleanse, Boost, and Block, replaced what used to be candy in the cookie jar with my Plexus Slim, and away we go. 

For the next 28 days I plan to blog about my Plexus journey for those on the fence or those trying to lose the last 5 lbs or just feel better in general or just have questions. 

Have no fear, it won't all be about Plexus. Yes. I sell the stuff and I still feel guilty about being "that girl," posting pictures on facebook and instagram, pink drink this, BioCleanse that, #tryit. Whatever. 

BUT starting today I'll track my weight loss including measurements and pounds for 28 days, 4 weeks. It really isn't that long when you think about it. In 28 days my goal is 10 lbs.  

10lbs of fat. Gone for hopefully good. 

I'll stick with my 4 workouts a week via Ballet Body dvd and the only change I'm making in my eating (to prove my point) is cutting cokes. 

The baby weight is gone. So why not set smaller goals month by month to ultimately reach the big one- weigh what I did when I graduated high school. 

So here we go. What could you do in 28 days?

Great, Great, Great...

I grew up knowing both of my great-grandmothers. It was pretty awesome to be honest.

Both were pretty nifty people.

To us she was Grandma Sallye.
Her real name Ila Verne "Sallye" Franks.
She was quite the lady let me tell you. One of the coolest people I have ever known.
Born in 1914, she grew up playing the piano, and continued to do so her entire life; later teaching her kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids including myself.
Growing up in Emerson, graduating high school, she then attended what is now Southern Arkansas University studying music if I remember right.
Fun Fact: in those days it was majorly against the rules for girls to ride in cars with boys at the university. 
Well guess who got caught?
Bingo. 

The punishment? Suspension.
Yep, Sallye was a bonified rebel.

Not really. 
Growing up with Grandma Sallye, the tradition was soup and pie on Saturdays along with soft peppermints from the candy jar, and Heaven help you if you didn't eat all the veggies in your bowl. Picky eaters weren't tolerated whatsoever. How do you think I learned to stomach green beans or onions? Nonetheless vegetables of that nature at all. 

*anything of the bean family or with a tomatoey relation- I'm out. 

Grandma Sallye was the accomplished musician. Among other wonderful qualities she was kind hearted, loved sports of all kinds from football to horse racing, opinionated and vocal about said opinions, and my favorite- bold and strong-willed. 

The stories could go on for days, but we can save some for later.  

Next. 
We called her Grandma Johnson.
Johnson being her last name. Juanita her first. Nancy her nickname.

Born in 1907, she lived to be 97 years old.
Needless to say, she lived to experience and see it all.
The normal routine for visiting Grandma Johnson was to go through the carport door, enter the laundry area and on to the kitchen where she greeted us with old fashioned stick candy. That was the trademark of her hospitality. The kind that came in atleast 50 flavors and wrapped in tight plastic that you could never get all the way off and ended up eating half the time.
After you got to pick out your candy, you could sit and visit.
She also had a little black poodle named Annie and a sweet woman we know as Willie B that sat with her in her old age.
I can remember loving Willie B as my "Black Grandma" as she called herself for years and years and years.
She always sent us kids birthday cards as if we were her own and everything always signing them "Love, your Black Grandma."
Honestly, in my opinion- the more grandmas the more better. Who could argue with more love and affection.

Grandma Johnson passed away when I was in the 5th grade. She lived a long luxurious life and left my cousin and I some pretty wonderful things such as our engagement rings. When we each became of age and had a serious man in our lives, our Memaw gave us each a matching diamond from a ring that Grandma Johnson had made for herself atleast 30 years ago. The ring had 2 identical diamonds on each end with swirls of baguettes inbetween.  We each got to use a stone I thought I would merely dream about for our own engagement rings, and it's something we'll each treasure forever. 

On another note, Grandma Johnson was a woman after my own heart. The bigger, gaudier,  glitterier, sparklier, shinier... The better. Absolutely. And again, the stories could go on and on, but we'll save some for later. 

I love that we'll get to tell Piper the elaborate stories about her great-greats and other family members and I also love that Piper will get to grow up knowing and loving her own great-grandparents as I did and we'll be able to tell her all about her others. 

After all, she has some of the best great-grandparents in my opinion, but I am a little partial.

Snow Day!

Today we had a forizzle snow day. 

South Arkansas had REAL snow. Not ice, not sleet, real fluffy, light snow. 

In saying that, yesterday and the day before we had slight iceage. Slightly enough to close schools since Monday morning. 

We are currently going on "snow day" number 4 as of tomorrow. 

Tomorrow the amount of slush that melted this afternoon will refreeze overnight creating more ice on the roads. 

Am I complaining? Not a bit. 

Did we take advantage of the 4 inches of snow? 

Absolutely. 

My husband and brother-in-law had quite the afternoon building these beauties. 

To put it in perspective...

The fuzzy headed one is almost 7ft tall. After building those, my brother-in-law tried his hand at building an igloo. We won't go there though. 

It's been years since I have seen a REAL snow day. This rare occasion of blankets of snow is one in a million. Good grief, to me almost a miracle occurrence in our area. 5 days ago I was in shorts on a 60 degree day in February. 

So it was Piper's first snow day and our first real snow day married. 

**disclaimer: there was a "snow day" almost a year ago but it was nor REAL SNOW. 

She thoroughly enjoyed it...

And to sum it up, it was fabulous.

 Check out our homefront. 

The Big Question

The most asked question as of now is "how did you lose the baby weight so fast?!"

The answer: I had a baby. 

Just kidding, but also very true. I left the hospital 18lbs lighter. Booyah. 

I only gained a total 24lbs my entire pregnancy, would have been 26 but I lost weight my last couple weeks. 

How? I ate nothing but organic greens, protein shakes, and drank water. 

And then lightening struck after I typed that. 

Absolutely not. 

Let me explain...

The month before I knew I was pregnant, we ate Pizza Hut stuffed crust pizza at least twice a week. I wanted nothing to do with meat. 

Then all I wanted were noodles. Spaghetti, macaroni, anything with noodles. I was in. 

Then it turned into crazy 1am cravings of my mother in law's chili. In the middle of June. She graciously made me an entire batch that I froze and continued to eat on. 

Then the crave of vegetables smothered with butter which turned into wanting hibachi chicken and fried rice with a lava flow of yum yum sauce. I could easily finish off my entire entree, all the grilled veggies, and then whatever was left on my eating partner's plate. 

From there I still had a fried food aversion. Exception: McDonald's chicken nuggets with BBQ sauce. 

I drank cokes like they were going out of style along with grape soda over ice cream. 

Lastly, as stated before, I LOVE Cancun. The last trimester it was the go to meal. Along with Taco Bell. I could eat 8 tortillas with my fajitas, large queso, and salsa. Yea. Probably not the best idea, but that last week I was bound and determined to send myself into labor. What better way than spicy food?

But let's back track. 

So after a month or so into knowing I was pregnant, the reflux hit. Like a storm. On planet Mars. The kind that last for years supposedly. I thought I would never know relief. No matter how many tums, equate brand, pepcids, you name it- my chest would be on fire with flames leaping into my throat singing the back of my teeth. 

It didn't matter what I ate. 

I then developed the strange taste for ice cream and Popsicles and of all things.... Milk. Just FYI, I hate milk with a passion or I did. The thought of drinking it made me gag, but those were the only things that would relieve the fire in the chest. So what did I do?

The last trimester I would eat a hot fudge sundae for lunch, my "real lunch" later in the afternoon, and then after supper I would pop my pepcids for good measure then eat 1-2 Popsicles. Aroound midnight I would begin the routine of getting up almost every 2-3 hours to get up to drink chocolate milk. Then the farther along I got. The more milk I drank. The last week I drank almost 2 gallons by myself. The crazy thing? The day before I had Piper we didn't go to church in fear of going into labor in the middle of the sermon. No one wants their water to break on a church pew. Gross. So Andy graciously went to the little grocery store down the road to get me a gallon of milk since I had almost finished off the one one the fridge. 

I couldn't make it very long those last few days without chocolate milk for my reflux and heartburn. 

So he bought the gallon of milk that Sunday. 

I finished off the one already in the fridge that night. 

The next 3 days we spent in the hospital. 

That gallon of milk stayed in the fridge. Unopened. For 2 weeks. 

No pregnant. No reflux. No milk. Definitely no ice cream. 

So there you have it. That 24-26lbs was by no means a product of clean eating or majorly healthy choices. 

My favorite piece of advice:

Eat what you crave, stop when you're full, and drink lots of liquids.

Best advice ever. 

 So how did I lose the rest and more? 

Plexus. 

No lie. I love that stuff. So much I'm an ambassador to sell it. The pink drink is what got me through the first 2 weeks of the newborn life. 

I had more energy, felt more rested, and shed some more lbs. 

2 months postpartum and I was back in my normal jeans, and weighed less than the day I found out I was pregnant. 

Don't knock it til you try it folks. My only mistake was I didn't try it sooner. 

The Truth Part 3

I'm generally one extreme or another. No inbetweens. I either want a real coke or water. I either want a steaming hot bubble bath or an icy cold pool. I either stay up late or go to bed ridiculously early if husband is on day shift. You get the jist?

I'm not one who sees grey areas. It's either yes or no. Good or bad. I either like it or I don't. I may be laid back, but in all honesty I'm a very picky person. The short version... I'm a big weirdo. Which leads to my thought processes. 

It's a chaotic mess of a masterpiece, the way my mind works that is. 

For example, ever heard of a studio art major turned math education? 

Me either. Then I became "one of them. "

Insert deep thundering... 

Dun Dun Duuuuuuuuuu!

I am the one who walks into the room, and the rest of the class looks at me like "why are you here?"

The same as you fine people. To get my degree and join the work force among that of the American educators.

So what? No I'm not your typical mathematics major. 

Apparently it's not the norm for one to doodle or sketch in the margins of notes in this field of study. 

Or try out different font styles when writing notes. 

Yes. Weirdo. I hold the title well. 

I eat ketchup on my eggs. 

I have anything from the latest Taylor Swift album to 90's pop NSYNC and Aaron Carter to Brookelyn Tab on my itunes. 

Riverdance. Love it.

Leopard print all the stuff!

Chicken Express ice is my favorite. 

Grape soda over ice cream. 

Raw cake batter. No raw eggs don't scare me and haven't killed me yet. 

Abstract Algebra is becoming my favorite. 

I am obsessed with my 2 dogs. Obviously. 

I hate cats with a passion. 

Lastly...

I first learned to play the piano on a Steinway grand piano. 

I may not think or process thoughts the way the rest of the world does, nor do I share alot of the same beliefs or agree on the current issues. 

I'm just content with being my weird self and living this fabulous life.